


On Flowers and Loathing

by Starshe11



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 21:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14089929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starshe11/pseuds/Starshe11
Summary: "Look, let’s just skip all the formal crap and get down to business. Just give me a bouquet that passive-aggressively means ‘Fuck you’, alright?“ | Originally posted on Fanfiction.net | HighSpecs





	On Flowers and Loathing

“Thanks again, boys! That griffon won’t be bothering us, or our food shipments anymore, that’s for sure.”

The four simply nodded and gave grunts of acknowledgement to the old man at the market eatery in Lestallum, too tired to give a proper response as the tipster counted out their reward. Ever since he, Noct and Prompto reunited with Gladio at the power plant, they had all been running back and forth doing as many hunts as they could before they set off for Altissia, as per the strategist’s suggestion. His readings on the city and all it had to offer gave him a vague idea as to how expensive it would be there, and he had only so far factored in the amount to be spent preparing for the Hydrean’s trial. The others quickly agreed that they needed to make good amounts of gil, and fast.

 

In order to do so, the four had undergone ten hunts or so in the past three days. The group had to contend with Vyv and Dino’s requests as well, the former wishing for a photograph atop the Rock of Ravatogh and the latter requiring an emerald from Costlemark Tower for his side-business. Both queries left the four men more exhausted than ever, between fending off the beasts and daemons that called those places home and trying to navigate their way through the substantially large areas. It didn’t help either that the Zu they disturbed atop the mountain tried to fly away with the prince in its talons, initiating a long and hard-fought battle. If not for the substantial rewards they’d received (plus the fact that there were Royal Arms waiting to be collected at those locations), they all might have told the two men where they could go and stuff their requests, ragged as they were.

The old man offered them an early lunch on the house for all the help they’d given, everyone all too willing to oblige. The group then plopped down at one of the tables, the youngest two of the group proceeding to bury their heads in their arms and drift off just a few seconds later. The remaining two chuckled to themselves at this, only waking them when the Offal Stew came.

 

The four were silent for a long while, only pausing in between bites to take a breath or drink some water. When everyone’s plates had been cleaned, Gladio spoke up.

“So what’s next? Ask around a little for any more hunts?”

At the word ‘hunt’, a loud groan escaped Prompto’s lips. Before anyone else could say anything, he cut in and said, “No way, big guy. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re wiped! Can’t we just, I dunno, chill or something first before we go on another one of those?”

 

The younger man had turned to Ignis as soon as he finished talking, sending him an expectant look. The Shield also looked at him, trying to silently convince the strategist that they should keep going before they fully ran out of steam. Feeling a pressure building up in his temples, the man offhandedly replied, “It’s up to Noct.”

The black-haired male, hearing his name, jolted out of his half-asleep state to see his brothers looking at him as if he’d become one of the Astrals. He had only caught part of the conversation, but he immediately knew what his stand on the matter was.

“Prompto’s right, I think we should call it a day.”

Whooping could be heard to the prince’s left then, the blonde suddenly regaining his energy. A groan passed Gladio’s lips, followed by a muttering of ‘fine, fine’ before taking a swig of his beer. Ignis, on the other hand, simply nodded and said that he would take care of their accommodations at the Leville immediately. Satisfied, the young man stretched and led the way to the hotel.

-oOo-

Once everything had gotten settled at the hotel and everyone had gotten in a few hours of sleep, the four proceeded to split off and take care of their own personal business in the meantime. The bespectacled man headed straight to the market for the second time that day, this time as a customer. Various yells of greeting were heard as he passed by, the vendors happy to see one of their best (and highest-paying!) customers back again. Ignis made idle chat with each of them, commenting on the weather and talking about new shipments of fruit and the like that came in the past week.

It wasn’t until he stopped in front of a certain stall, however, that he noticed something was amiss.

The old woman who ran the stall was a small thing, one who seemed to have more energy in her body than what was expected of her age. The strategist found the woman a delight, selling him the flowers he needed for his dishes at very reasonable prices in exchange for listening to a few of her seemingly endless stories.

She seemed quite different today, however. When she saw Ignis, she greeted him with a wan smile and a nod instead of the bone-crushing hugs she seemed to prefer. Instead of the unusually youthful glow on her ever-smiling face, a pallid look was dominant on her features, making her seem as if she’d aged by ten years. Just as he was about to ask if she was alright, the old woman collapsed in a small heap. Surprised, the adviser allowed himself a moment to compose himself before calling out for someone to help him get her to the nearest clinic or hospital.

-oOo-

About an hour later, the old woman was resting comfortably in a hospital bed. Thankfully, her condition wasn’t too serious. She had suffered from a bout of heat stroke, not an uncommon occurrence in a place as hot and humid as Lestallum. She was advised to rest for the rest of the day as a precaution, however, causing her normally serene expression to morph into one of stubborn refusal.

“I can’t just leave my stall unattended,” she croaked out. “My grandson is coming next week, and I want to be able to buy him something nice.”

“Ma’am, I understand completely,” the doctor began. “But your overall condition will get worse if you don’t…”

“Condition, schmondition!”, the woman yelled hoarsely. “I don’t get to see my family that often now since they moved out to Altissia five years ago. If I can’t spoil him now, then when?”

Before the doctor could say anything more, Ignis cut in and said, “If I may…”

 

Both medic and patient were surprised at the sudden intervention, the former pleading with his eyes to help him make the latter see sense.

“What is it, sonny?”, the senior piped up, her former energy somewhat restored.

Clearing his throat, the green-eyed man continued, “If it would ease your mind somehow, I’d be happy to help run the stall for the day.”

A spark ignited in the elderly woman’s eyes then, followed by a bone-crushing hug and various kisses to both cheeks, each punctuated by a ‘thank you!’. Flustered, Ignis turned to the doctor for some assistance, only to be met with a smile.

‘What in Eos have I just gotten myself into now?’

\--oOo--

“Thanks again, man! You’re a life-saver!”

Ignis simply gave a small wave at the man, watching him disappear into the back streets of Lestallum. Exhausted, he sat down on the stool provided and took a swig of the cold can of Ebony one of the vendors gave him.

While he was happy that the old woman had a steady wave of business, he still could not contain his shock over the volume of customers he had entertained that afternoon. Those like him who bought the edible types of flowers were few and far between, majority of the group paying good amounts for meaningful bouquets, some as thanks, others as a token of undying love like the man who had just left.

Standing up and carefully taking a rose in his hand, he took a deep whiff and thought to himself, ‘I’m glad I took note of the flower language she taught me before. It has made this so much easier…’

His reverie was interrupted by the slamming of a hand on the table behind him, the man involuntarily flinching at the sound. Suppressing a groan at having to deal with a particularly irate customer near closing time, he gave his best smile and greeted, “Good evening. How may I help…”. His last words were lost to the wind as he registered the appearance of the woman in front of him, someone he had seen not too long ago. “Aranea?”

 

Her sour expression turned into one of shock as she recognized the man in front of her to be Pretty Boy’s adviser. What was his name again? Oh yeah…”Ignis, right? Fancy meeting you here.”

Quickly composing himself, he smoothly replied, “I could say the same of you, Commodore. How may I be able to assist you tonight?”

Running a hand through her silver hair, the dragoon remembered why she had come storming over, the fury of Ifrit burning in her eyes. Not wanting to drag out the encounter any longer, she drawled, “Look, let’s just skip all the formal crap and get down to business. Just give me a bouquet that passive-aggressively means ‘Fuck you’, alright?”

He winced at the volume of her voice, the vulgar language she used drawing even more stares in their general direction.

“Language,” he gently chided. “And please do keep it down. You’re causing quite the scene.”

 

All ire in her expression vanished then, replaced by slight embarrassment. To confirm this, her cheeks became tinged with the slightest bit of pink. The unexpected reaction caused Ignis to feel a pang in his chest, one that wasn’t entirely painful. Maybe it was just the lighting, or maybe the heat had finally gotten to him, but…

He thought in that moment that the woman in front of him was the most beautiful he had ever seen.

The sudden realization brought a flush to the strategist’s own cheeks. Feeling his face heat up ever so slightly, he began to mentally scold himself for even thinking of her that way.

 

‘What are you doing? She’s an Astrals-damned agent of the Empire!’

‘It doesn’t mean you aren’t attracted to her at least a little.’

‘Whatever attraction I may have doesn’t matter! Even if she had helped us in the past, she’s still working for Chancellor Izunia, and that’s the truth.’

‘Admit it, though. You fancy the Commodore.’

‘While she is attractive, and her personality refreshingly crass, she is still our enemy. She tried to kill Noct at some point.’

 

“Um…Specs? Ignis? You alright there?”

 

His internal war with his emotions came to an abrupt halt when he registered the snapping of fingers in front of his face, the hand belonging to a slightly peeved Aranea. Clearing his throat, he replied, “Apologies. I just needed a moment to recall which flowers you needed for the bouquet. Who is it for, if I may ask?”

The woman slightly relaxed then, assuming her usual cocksure stance. She figured she owed the man in front of her an explanation at least, after nearly scaring the living daylights out of him and embarrassing them both in public in her rage.

“Your best friend, the Chancellor.” She punctuated this with a roll of her eyes. “He called us out for a meeting at the Aracheole Stronghold in about an hour.”

“Whatever for?”, the bespectacled man inquired, his curiosity now piqued.

 

“Hell if I know,” she snorted. “I just know that I’m sick and tired of his creepy ass, and I wanna tell him to go fuck himself without actually saying it, y’know? Just in case he tries to pull a fast one on me and not pay me.”

Nodding in understanding, Ignis decided to change the topic. “For a bouquet like yours, you would need these.” He moved around the stall as he spoke, obtaining the flowers he needed and placing them on neatly laid out crepe paper.

Aranea watched with fascination, admiring the deftness of his fingers and the precision in his work. When he finished, the bouquet looked beautiful. A look of admiration shone in her eyes then, not unnoticed by the man in front of her as he felt a swell of pride in his work. The two stayed like that for a while, unmoving, until the dragoon decided to break the silence.

“This is way too pretty to be insulting,” she teased. “How do I know this really is a bunch of flowers telling him to go screw himself?”

Noting the humor in her voice, Ignis replied with a smirk, “I’m wounded, Commodore. I wouldn’t dare pull the wool over your eyes.”

 

“Then tell me their meanings then, flower boy,” she chuckled.

Feeling the tips of his ears grow hot at the nickname, the man pointed to the small pink flowers and said, “The geraniums symbolize stupidity.”

Moving his finger over to the ones shaped like bells, he continued, “Foxglove represents insincerity.”

He gently caressed the delicate white blooms in the middle next, reciting, “This is meadowsweet, symbolic of uselessness.”

The fluffy yellow ones he gestured to after, saying, “The yellow carnations directly tell the recipient that they have disappointed you.”

 

Ignis examined the orange ones last, finishing with, “The orange lilies send the most powerful message of all: hatred.” Turning to his audience of one with a smirk on his lips, he gave an exaggerated bow and said, “There you have it: a beautiful bouquet of loathing.”

Aranea was smirking to herself now, admiring the double-edged beauty of the bouquet. Her eyes then trailed to the man holding it, watching the flutter of his impossibly long lashes as he blinked before trailing down to his lips. Licking her own, she thought back to the time she met the Prince (now King) of Lucis and his entourage.

When she had met them the first time, she didn’t really care about the others, her focus being on taking down the moody prince. She had to admit though; the four of them really gave her a workout, their synchronized attacks and Pretty Boy’s warping catching her off guard.

 

Meeting again at Steyliff Grove, however, was a different story.

 

At first, she was reluctant to take the assignment. First you want me to kill him, and now you want me to help him? She honestly thought Ardyn was nuts, even more so than usual. The fact that she still hadn’t been paid by the Empire was the only thing that compelled her to take it. When she met up with the three Lucians (surprisingly, the big wall of meat was nowhere to be found) at the entrance, she figured that they’d be really awkward and stiff around her, ultimately ending in them not doing well in battle and her having to pick up after their sorry asses.

To her surprise, it wasn’t like that at all. The three of them warmed up to her quickly, and vice versa. It wasn’t at the level where they would have friendship rings or weave sylleblossoms into each others’ hair, but it was comfortable enough for her to be included in their sarcastic banter and in Prompto’s many pictures, just the way she liked it.

Though she enjoyed the company of the black-haired prince and the blonde ball of sunshine, she couldn’t help but observe Ignis every chance she got. At first, she chalked it up to curiosity. The guy seemed like such a stick in the mud, so proper and so secretive. The silver-haired woman wanted to know what made him tick, how to get a rise out of the stoic man. As they went further into the dungeon however, that interest seemed to evolve into something a bit more. Looking back, maybe it was the way the light from the water above hit him just right, or maybe exhaustion had finally caught up to her in that moment. But as she watched him execute a perfect backflip with that spear of his, Aranea thought…

 

This guy was the most interesting (and best-looking) one she had ever met.

 

Aranea knew soon after she had parted ways with the trio that it was so much more than those things combined…Not that she would ever admit it out loud, of course.

She was pulled out of her reverie by a gloved hand waving in front of her face, trying to get her attention.

“Aranea? Are you alright?”

 

Feeling an awkward sense of déjà vu, the commodore simply snatched the bouquet from the man’s other hand, taking him by surprise.

Seeing his expression ignited something in her, so she decided to tease him a little, leaning dangerously close toward him before saying in her most seductive tone, “Thanks for the flower talk, Ignis. How much do I owe you?”

 

To him, she might as well have just asked him to do her right then and there. For someone who was such an eloquent speaker, Ignis currently found himself at a loss for words, trying to look anywhere but at Aranea or at her exposed chest, now dangerously close to his own.

Smirking at his flustered expression, the dragoon backed off before slapping 500 gil on the table. She was about to turn around and leave before she felt a hand grab at her wrist and pull her towards them. A beat later, she found herself being kissed by the royal adviser.

 

Surprised at first, Aranea just stood there limply for a few seconds as she felt the movement of his lips upon hers. When she recovered from her initial shock, she responded to the kiss with a passionately hungry one of her own. Both continued on for a minute or two before breaking apart for air, their faces as red as Lucian tomatoes from the encounter. They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, trying to gauge the other’s reaction. Ignis broke the silence first, slicking back his hair as he said, “I believe that was more than sufficient payment for my services. But I’ll be keeping the 500 gil for the actual owner of the stall to use as she sees fit.”

Stunned, Aranea didn’t say anything in response, instead choosing to grab the pen and paper used for writing out receipts and scribbling on it furiously. Ignis became worried that he may have taken it too far, an apology ready on his lips. Before he could get it out, however, a piece of paper was shoved roughly into his face, skewing his glasses. When he was able to remove the paper, Aranea had disappeared, almost like a dream.

Looking down at the receipt, he was surprised to see a short note on the back, written in a slightly messy scrawl.

 

‘Thanks again for the flowers. –A’

‘P.S. If you don’t call me within the next three days after kissing me like that, you’re dead meat.’

 

Below the text was her cellphone number, punctuated with a kiss mark. The sight of it caused Ignis to smile, one that remained plastered on his face even after he registered the number to his contacts, closed up shop and gave the money to the owner at the hospital.

There was a slight spring in his gait as he walked back to the Leville, the aura of happiness not leaving him even as he made his way up to the room the four would share. Before he knocked on the door, he composed himself and schooled his features back into a mask of neutrality, knowing that his brothers would never let him hear the end of it if they knew.

Ushered inside, the four men shared their experiences throughout the day over a game of poker. Gladio met up with Iris, the two going around the city and appreciating the sights. Noct and Prompto went together, going on a food tour and trying anything and everything that caught their fancy. When they asked Ignis what he had done with his free day, he simply replied,

 

“Nothing much. I had a wonderful time at the market like always.”


End file.
